


What Sharp Teeth You Have

by PrinceNux



Category: Fantasy - Fandom, Original Work, werewolves - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blood, Death, F/M, Homicide, I stole the title from Little Red Riding Hood, Miscarriage, Murder, Werewolves, please dont sue me, real fun stuff, school assignment gone awry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 02:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceNux/pseuds/PrinceNux
Summary: Going to be rewriting this, someday. Until then, this work has been discontinued.





	1. Prologue

In the ten years since Beth last saw Zack, she’s gone through five different hair colors, dated two boys and three girls, and finally moved to Orcas Island like she’d wanted to since she was a kid. She works in the library on the mainland now, a thirty minute drive from where her two bedroom cabin lies, nestled in the forest. Beth doesn’t mind the drive because it gives her a chance to drink her first thermos of coffee for the day, and call Zack’s phone in the hopes that he’ll finally pick up. But, she had filled up the voicemail inbox on his phone two years ago, and now all that answers is the little automated voice telling her that “this number has a full inbox.” She hates that little voice. 

Then, when Beth has been working at the library for almost a year, she calls Zack’s number during her lunch break and there’s a new automated voice saying, “this number has been disconnected,” before the line goes quiet. Swearing, Beth shoves her phone into her jeans pocket and goes back to reshelving books for the next few hours until her shift ends. If she lags behind a bit, none of her fellow employees say anything, just wish her a goodnight on their way out the double doors. To her credit, Beth nods in response, but she is preoccupied with the promise that she had made herself and Zack the last time that they saw each other. If the two did not see each other again in ten years, then Beth was to write down all that Zack had told her during their short time together. Not for any police evidence, because Becca Malone had already been locked up in prison, but because Beth loved Zack and he wanted her to have a piece of him in the event that he died before they saw each other again. 

Back at home, Beth pulls the notebook she bought specially for this occasion out of her messenger bag and sits down at the little alcove kitchen table. Uncapping the pen, she writes: “There is blood crusted onto his shirt, and the way he holds himself it’s obvious that more than one thing is broken, but he won’t let me take him to the hospital. Right hand gripping the steaming mug of apple cider, his left arm hung slack from the shoulder, and I was honestly surprised that nobody else in the cafe had asked us if we were alright yet. Granted, I was in better shape than Zack, with only a few scrapes and bruises, but the dark color blooming on my cheek wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. Sighing, I took a sip of my own drink, nearly choking when Zack cleared his throat and spat a glob of blood onto the sidewalk. “You’re cross with me,” he said. It’s not a question, so I don’t know how to answer. He didn’t let me, anyway, because he launched into the story of just what the hell happened to land us in this situation.   
“I’m sure you remember the first time we met,” he started, breaking off to rub at his shoulder, finishing with, “you saved my life.”


	2. Chapter 2

Zack doesn’t remember the first time that he Turned, or what happened while he was in that state. But, he does remember waking up on the grassy front lawn of the hospital and his legs not working. Which shouldn’t have happened, because he was nineteen and in good health. However, if that was the case, then where did all the blood come from? That, he has no answer to. Nor does he have any idea why his legs won’t move. 

 

“ _ Move _ ,” he instructs his body, but the only thing that happens is his head snapping to the side as he violently pukes blood and what looks like half-digested meat onto the grass. Bringing up a hand to wipe his mouth, Zack is pleasantly surprised that his arms move. But, that just makes the fact that everything below mid-thigh is all tingles and sharp jabs of pain more distressing. Then, before his stomach can expel even more frightening things in various stages of digestion, a bright pink burst obscures what may be the moon. 

 

Zack’s first thought is:  _ oh god this it it, I’m dying _ , until the burst kneels down beside where he is still sprawled out on the grass. A decidedly human hand touches his shoulder, and if his legs worked, Zack would have jumped out of startled fear. His brain starts to whirl then, trying to find a plausible scenario for why the angel come to take him up above, or down below, has bright pink hair. Thankfully, the building anxiety attack fizzles out when the burst speaks in a gentle voice. “Zack,” it says, “are you okay? You may be bleeding, though I’m not too sure if it’s your blood.”

 

_ Huh. The pink hair knows his name. How interesting. How curious. _ Then, before Zack’s admittedly addled brain can come up with anymore adjectives, his eyes, which he hadn’t even realized were closed, pop open again and he immediately recognizes the voice as belonging to his roommate. Well, as close to a roommate as one can get when they’re on the other side of the room, which is cut in half by a too-bright curtain. “Hi,” he says, then, “how do you know my name?” 

 

“I read your chart,” the pink-haired girl responds cheerily. Her voice turns more somber then, saying, “I tried to keep you from leaving. But then you stood up, which you shouldn’t have even been able to do, and you climbed out the window. Then you  _ changed _ into this….this  _ monster _ .”

 

Zack nods, not sure how to respond to that, and so decides to go with the easier route of saying, “okay, roomie, you wanna give me a hand? My legs aren’t cooperating, and I’m pretty sure you know why, don’t you?”

 

Roomie shrugs noncommittally, which is when Zack realizes that her left arm is in a sling. Laying his head back onto the dewy grass in frustration, he considers just laying on the lawn until one of the orderlies realizes that he’s missing. Rubbing at his eyes, Zack drops his hands when something hits his right foot. Ow, he thinks, and then lets out a short burst of a laugh because he has feeling in his feet! Looking up at his roomie, he realizes that the thing that hit him was the front wheel of a wheelchair, which the girl stands beside, looking very proud of herself. 

 

Shrugging, he struggles into a sitting position, wiggling his toes in a sort of relieved happiness. Bending down, the girl offers him her right hand, and pulls him upright with more ease than seems possible for being a few inches shorter than him and having one arm in a sling. They wobble together for a second, before the girl, whose name is stuck right on the tip of Zack’s tongue, pushes him down into the wheelchair. He really has to let her, because while his feet are regaining feeling, his legs are still pins and needles and what honestly feels like TV static. 

 

Roomie walks in the direction of the glass double sliding doors, Zack wheeling next to her, still confused as to what just happened, but the feeling of sleep-deprivation steals the words to ask. The nurse at the front desk looks up when they come in, shaking her head, asking, “another late-night walk, Beth?” Roomie, whose name is apparently Beth, nods in response.

 

Once back in their room, Zack finds he has enough feeling in his legs to get himself out of the chair and up onto his bed. Beth looks relieved and climbs into her own bed. Zack falls asleep with the distinct feeling of memory chunks coming back to him, and the realization that this--the finding him on the front lawn and bringing him back inside in one piece--must have happened before. 


End file.
